


Beautiful

by SgtMac



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Episode: s02e09 Queen of Hearts, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 10:02:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/660699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SgtMac/pseuds/SgtMac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Just…trust me, okay?"</p><p>"I don't trust," Regina answers. "It always burns me."</p><p>"What else do you have to lose?" Emma presses. "Look around us. If we don't turn off this energy surge – if we don’t turn you off - this building is going to come down on both of us."<br/>***</p><p>Regina is juiced with fairy dust magic and due to her despair, quickly coming apart at the seams. Emma is still the Savior. Maybe especially now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> Post Queen of Hearts, but prior to (and ignorant of) Cricket Game. Mild sexual situations, language and violence.

Even crickets have beautiful dreams.

His are uninteresting by most standards; they contain little beyond lushly rolling hills, massive green trees and bright blue skies full of open air. They offer little more than the freedom to do and be whoever he'd like to be. He's been having this dream for as long as he can remember, but it had only recently - upon the curse shattering - became something that he understood the true meaning of.

He's Jiminy Cricket. Once a young man trapped in a life he'd never wanted, a life of deception and crime that had destroyed his soul more and more with every day. Until the day he had happily sacrificed his human body to get away from it.

Nowadays, though, he's Doctor Archie Hopper. The middle aged lonely guy who listens. Just listens.

To be fair, most of the time, he's honestly not sure who the hell he is. Cricket or man? He doesn't have a clue, doesn't know who he should be. Or why. When angry pounding on the front door of his perfectly kept-up (some might call it neurotically so) two bedroom house on the edge of town awakens him, however, the answer to this question becomes surprisingly easy for him: he is Doctor Archibald Hopper - psychiatrist.

The truth of the matter is simple: no one comes to see Jiminy Cricket. Here as in Fairytale Land, Jiminy is just the one that folks tolerate because he'd once sat on the far more trusted and liked Gepetto's shoulder. Back in the old world, he'd been the one telling everyone truths that they hadn’t wanted to hear. He'd been the handwringing buzz kill, the cautious nail-biting worrier. But here, in Storybrooke, as Archie, he's actually needed. As Archie, he can help. As Archie, people listen and he can finally really make a difference. Maybe even right a few wrongs.

After shutting the door to his bedroom behind him (thereby locking Pongo inside; the normally well behaved dog can get rather anxious about visitors late at night) he pads to the front room in his pajamas and flannel bathrobe, putting on his glasses as he walks. He opens the door and immediately rethinks his decision to do so when he sees the person there. "Re-Regina? What…what brings you here at…are you okay?"

The former mayor is clearly not okay. There's an almost loopy half crazed expression on her face, something between anger and sadness. Misery forces her lips into a sneer. She laughs, then, and he thinks for a moment that she's finally fallen off the edge of sanity. He thinks that maybe she's come to kill him for having the audacity to think of her as in need of help. Even deposed, she is still a queen, and queens never need help from underlings. Especially not ones that double as bugs.

"I'm sick of trying," Regina says thickly, and the words come out as a growl of anger. He notices with a bit of shock that her eyes – which are shot alarmingly wide - are glowing bright green. The first absurd thing that comes to his mind is to ask her if she's been drinking. The answer, of course, is yes. And no.

She's not drunk on whiskey; she's wasted on magic.

"Regina," he says again, lowering his voice, trying to take on his most soothing of tones. "Would…would you like to talk?" He thinks to himself that even trying to reason with her right now is the sign of mental illness – and not just within her.

Somehow or another, the former queen has gotten herself completely jacked up on magic, enough so that she's practically vibrating with it. That her emotions seem to be swinging around like an out of control pendulum sure doesn't seem to be helping her keep control of the sparks that are leaping from her fingers. One hits a flowerpot and fizzles, thankfully without lighting.

"No. No more talking," she snaps back. He notices with more than a little surprise that there are tears racing down her cheeks, a few of them pooling to leave wet spots on the vivid blue of her blouse. He thinks that she probably doesn't even realize that she's crying; is probably too lost within her rage. She holds up her trembling hands to him, a sharp bright green glow lighting both them of up. "Tell me, Bug, what's the point? Why bother trying to be a better person if doing so hurts even worse?"

He considers asking her not to call him "Bug", but chooses not to go down that road for the time being. The woman in front of him isn't reasonable or rational right now; she’s hurt and angry and that means she's lashing out. That means that right at this very moment in time, she's as dangerous as she's ever been. And lucky him, he's standing right in her path. Like a bug about to get splattered against a glass windshield.

He takes a deep breath, tries to get his shaky nerves under control, and says, "I don't know what you're upset about, Regina, but…but I think maybe…maybe you should come in. Come in and…and sit down, and…and we can…we can work this out."

"No, we can't. There's nothing more to work out." Regina shakes her head and laughs again, the sound nearly hysterical. He's suddenly thrown back in time several decades, and to another land. He's thrown back to an age when she'd worn all black and her makeup had been bold and angry.

A time when there’d been nothing but hatred in her heart. 

Her next words pull him away from these dark thoughts, "I should have just let her die. Then maybe she’d stop hurting me."

"Who? Who's hurting you?" he asks, eyebrows leaping upwards.

"The Savior," she laughs, the sound bitter and without humor.

"She's back?" His voice jumps up a bit (maybe even squeaks), and he immediately regrets it because the look she throws him is nothing short of disgusted. "Emma's back in Storybrooke?"

"Oh, yes, the great Emma Swan has returned. Thanks to my help, I might add." She holds up her sparking hands. "She and Snow White are back in Storybrooke, and my son is in her arms."

"Oh."

It all makes sense now. Such terrible sense.

"Regina…"

She's not listening to him. She starts pacing back and forth, the sparks that are jumping from her hands becoming disturbingly frequent and bright. Somewhere in the background, he hears Pongo barking and pawing at the bedroom door. "No matter how hard I try to be worthy of him, he will always hate me."

"Henry doesn't…"

"Doesn’t he? No matter what I do, my son will always prefer his birth mother over me. So why bother? What’s the point of trying to be good when it feels worse than when I didn't care?”

"Because trying is…is what makes you a good person. Or at least a better one,” Archie offers.

Again, she laughs. This one isn't quite as high; it's more choked and hurt. "Who are we kidding here, Bug? I'll never be a good person." The sparks are practically leaping from her fingers now, and for a moment, he has the ridiculous thought that she's about to burn down his house with the both of them in it. 

“Regina…”

"There's nothing…beautiful about me,” she continues, just about spitting out the word "beautiful".

"Regina, please," he urges. "I need you to calm...calm down."

"But I was trying," she screams at him suddenly, and her eyes light up again, the green turning almost emerald in her fury and pain. Before either one of them realizes what's happening, he's flying back across the room and crashing into his couch. He connects to the back of it with a loud groan. Behind him, in the bedroom, Pongo’s barking becomes almost frantic.

Wincing, he looks up at the woman standing above him, and is somewhat surprised to see the horrified expression on her face. He realizes, then, with shocking clarity that she hadn't actually meant to throw him; she’d simply lost control of her emotions. 

Again.

"Re…Regina," he stammers out, starting to stand, his left hand reaching out to try steady his shaking body. As his legs buckle beneath him, his fingers clutch at the edge of the couch. He tries to swallow back the fear that is rushing through him like a tidal wave; this woman in front of him is coming unwound quickly, and he remembers far too well the consequences of such.

Most people would be ducking and covering right about now.

The only reason he isn't? Because after weeks after working with her – talking to her about things he knows that she's never spoken to anyone else about – he knows for a fact that she's not the same woman that she was twenty-eight years ago. He knows that she’s no longer the crazed with grief and rage homicidal lunatic who'd cursed an entire land to Maine.

He's honestly not sure who this person standing in front of him right now is, but he can tell by the horror he sees burning like an out of control wildfire in her no longer green eyes that she's just as terrified as he is of coming undone. 

"I'm…I'm sorry…" her voice is so low, so terribly deep with shock. "I didn't mean to…"

"Talk to me," he presses again, taking an unsteady step towards her. "Let me help you get through this…"

"You can't," she answers thoughtfully, as if she's just learned the secret to the universe. "No one can help me. Not you…not her…"

"Regina…" he pleads as it occurs to him just many times he's said her name. That she's reacted to not a one of them tells him just how lost in her own feverish mind she is right now.

"I'm sorry," she says again, and then backs out of the doorway. 

By the time he gets to where she’d been just seconds earlier, she's gone, just a puff of green smoke hanging in the air.

*** ***

Emma's sound asleep when the call comes in.

For a moment, she's honestly surprised to hear the sound of ringing (well, more like singing) coming out of the cell on her nightstand. The phone had been in her pocket for weeks while she'd been in Fairytale Land, completely dead, and obviously without reception (Snow hadn't really appreciated her jokes about dropped coverage, but they'd been at least a little funny to her). Now, freshly plugged in, the damned thing is ringing.

With a groan, she rolls over in her bed and picks up her cell, stabbing it on. "Ungh." Certainly not the most dignified of responses, but it's damned late and she's damned tired.

"Sheriff Swan?" she hears. 

The title gets her attention. She blinks a few times to try to clear the cobwebs away from her brain. "Archie?"

"So you are back then." It's a statement and not a question.

"I am. You don't sound happy about that."

"No, I am. Of course. Welcome back, Emma. I need your help."

Her eyebrow shoots into her freshly shampooed and conditioned hairline. "Way to get to the point. Wait, right now?"

"Right now. Unless you want an Evil Queen destroying the town while you're sleeping," he tells her. It's an oddly sarcastic comment from a very mild man, and perhaps it's the frustrated tone she hears from him that makes her sit up and really listen.

"What are you talking about, Archie? I saw Regina just a few hours ago. She was fine."

"Well, she wasn't 'fine' a few minutes ago."

"You…wait, you saw her?"

"She came by my house."

Emma's eyebrow lifts. "Why?"

"She's been coming to see me for therapy for a few weeks now," he tells her with hesitance peppering his voice. "I've been trying to help her through some issues."

"Such as?"

"She's my client, which means what I talk to her about is private," he answers, his tone short. "But because your father already knows, I'll tell you this: part of the reason she came to me in the first place was to prove to Henry that she wanted to change, and that she could. And she was making progress, I think. Whatever happened tonight, she's given up on that."

"All right. Look, I can go out and find her, and try to stop her, but I get the feeling that's not really what you want me to do here, is it?" She's already rising from the bed, already pulling on a fresh pair of jeans and the first hoodie that she can find.

"Something happened between you two, didn't it?" Archie prompts. Emma frowns a bit at this. She's never known this man to be so forthright. He's not a pusher usually, and yet right now, he's clearly trying to make a point.

Right now, he's clearly fighting for Regina.

"You know what happened between us," Emma answers dryly. "She tried to kill me, and almost killed Henry instead."

"Something besides that," he coaxes. "Something more personal that no one else knows about." She gets the feeling that Archie already knows the answer to the question he's asking. Which is strange because there's no way that Regina would talk about what had actually happened between them. Right?

She runs her hand through her blonde hair, delighting in the feel of it being tangle-free. "I don't know what you mean."

"Fine," he tells her, and she thinks she hears disappointment in the tone. "That's your business, but what's mine is trying to protect my patient. I don't know exactly what happened between you two in the past and I don't know at all what happened between the two of you tonight, but what I saw a few minutes ago was a woman coming completely apart at the seams. And that woman is glowing bright green with magic."

"How is that possible?"

"You tell me. Did she use magic to save you?"

Emma thinks for a moment. After the well and then Gold's shop, the group had all reconvened at Granny's for dinner. They'd talked and ate and all of that, but there'd been really no conversation about how Regina had saved them.

It'd seemed inconvenient to speak about at the time.

She feels a jolt within her, a tightening of her gut as realization strikes her with almost violent force. They'd all been together at Gold's shop and then they'd left her there. Their savior forgotten about as they’d rather gleefully celebrated their return.

Jesus.

"Emma?" Archie prompts.

"She must have," the blonde finally answers. "She was on the ground when we came through. Henry said she saved us." She tries to remember, recalls that Gold had been standing there, hand on his cane, watching with a strangely passive look on his face. He and Regina had apparently done something to block off the well so as to kill anyone coming through, and then Regina had done something else to turn the insane power surge off. The what of both actions had been left a bit foggy. A bit of unnecessary detail to the homecoming team.

"So she injured herself in order to bring you and Snow home?"

Emma's jaw clenches hard at his words. Her eyes flutter closed, and she allows a short breath of hot air out between her teeth. "It would seem that way," she finally answers as her fingers trace down to button the fly of her jeans.

"She needs your help, Emma."

"I don't owe her this," the blonde replies, her voice quiet, but oddly unconvincing. 

"It's not about owing her. It's about doing the right thing. And it's about helping someone who desperately needs it."

"You're trying to remind me that I'm the Savior," she responds dryly. She thinks to herself that she could get very sick of having that title and its responsibilities constantly thrown in her face.

"No, I'm trying to remind you that you're a good person. I'm trying to remind you that whatever happened between you – before she tried to kill you and before you chose to end whatever it was that was going on with the two of you - you actually cared about her. And maybe that's because deep down, there was something good in her that you saw, too. And that good thing you saw? It's been growing by leaps and bounds over the last several weeks, Emma. She's been letting it grow. I’m asking you to help her before she does something she’ll regret. Please."

"I'm already on my way, Doc."

"Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah, just remember that if you're hosing me off the cement tomorrow morning."

"She won't hurt you."

"Because she saved me today?"

"Because she loves you."

The line goes dead.

"Great," she mutters. "Even Jiminy Cricket gets the last word in. Fucking perfect." She looks around, finds her red jacket, sniffs at it apprehensively, and then grabs for the blue one instead. She pulls it on, and zips it up over the hoodie.

She steps out into the darkness of the apartment. Her parents are sound asleep in the bed behind the curtain. Henry is likewise knocked out on cold couch, exhausted beyond words thanks to the craziness of the day. He's still just an eleven-year-old boy.

Careful to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake anyone, she pens a quick note, saying only that she had to step out to take care of a police matter and that she'll see everyone in the morning. Then, pulling her jacket tight around her, she heads out into the cold dark night, wondering just what the hell she's thinking.

And wondering why it seems like no matter how hard she tries, she just can't walk away from Regina Mills once and for all.

*** ***

_Before._

_She watches Regina sleep from the chair next to the bed. The mayor is restless, unable to stay still for longer than a few minutes at a time. You can wake her from a dream or a nightmare all you like (and Emma has certainly tried everything she knows. Well, everything aside from actually holding Regina in her arms; the mayor won't allow anyone to connect to her in such a manner – it's too intimate, too intense – more so she thinks than even lovemaking itself), but the moment she tumbles back to the Sandman, the haunting visions return to her._

_It's been like this every night that they've spent together. Without fail, every evening of should be calm has been disrupted by the ghosts that torment Regina. The skeletons in her closet. And every night Emma wonders just how terrible they really are._

_"You're watching me," she hears. There's a wonderfully husky quality to Regina voice when she first comes awake; the sound, deep and throaty. It does something to her body, the blonde sheriff knows. But then, everything about the mayor does something to her. Sometimes it's lust, sometimes it's fury._

_It's always something or other._

_"Sorry," Emma murmurs. She's not, though. She wants to imprint this visual on her mind, wants to remember it long past the point when she shouldn’t._

 _Regina turns slowly, exposing lines and swells of olive colored flesh. Her chest bobs enticingly just beneath the edge of the silk sheets, and for a moment, Emma considers ripping the covers away. One for the road, she tries to tell herself._

_But no, that would be cruel._

_And this is already going to be hard enough._

_"Why are you awake so early, Miss Swan?" the mayor queries, and Emma thinks that maybe the brunette already knows why. There's a haunted look in her dark brown eyes as she forces out the next question. "Are you leaving so soon?"_

_"You're beautiful," Emma says simply, choosing to answer none of the previously asked questions. That Regina is beautiful is true; the woman lying naked just a few inches away from her is stunning. Every part of looks like it was hand sculpted by a gifted (but tormented) Renaissance artist. Unfortunately, this is a beauty which doesn't run more than skin deep._

_Unfortunately, this work of art is also a cold-blooded killer._

_And each moment in bed with Regina, each kiss shared, each moment of torrid lovemaking is carving away at Emma's soul just a little bit more. Against her will, she can feel herself breaking, collapsing, losing herself in a way she can't allow._

_This has to end._

_Now._

_"Say what you need to say," Regina whispers suddenly, and then she's backing up, scooting herself up so that she's leaning against the curved headboard. The sheet is clutched tight against her, like armor. The bare skin from before is covered up._

_“I know,” Emma says._

_“You know what?”_

_"I know who you are. I know what you've done. And no matter how many shovels you hide, I know that you killed Kathryn," Emma tells her, and she's impressed to hear not a bit of waiver in her tone. "I can't prove it, but we both know you did it."_

_"Do we now?" Regina answers, eyes suddenly very cold. "And knowing this, you still came to my bed tonight." There's scorn dripping from her voice. She thinks to herself that it's a bit funny that Emma thinks she actually knows who the woman she's been sharing a bed with is. She has no idea._

_No real idea about the things – the atrocities - actually done._

_Emma fidgets, her hands climbing into her pockets, and then coming out of them in a rush of awkward nervous fingers. She clenches her hands and then unclenches them. "I wanted…"_

_"Oh, I know what you wanted," Regina snorts, the scorn turning to anger and what sounds a lot like hatred. "And you got it in spades, didn't you? And now that you have, you can wipe your hands of me, and you can pretend to leave this house, this bed – me - with your conscience free."_

_"It's not like that."_

_"Isn't it? You believe wholeheartedly that I murdered a woman who was my friend. You believed that when you walked into this bedroom and removed your clothes. You believed that when you put your mouth on me." She leans forward then, her lips lifting into a disgusted sneer. "You believed that when you were inside of me. You even believed that when I was the one inside of you, and you were screaming my name and begging me for more, more, more."_

_"Regina…" Emma tries not to think about the nearly scorching heat moving up and down through her body. She's appalled to realize that she's both horrified by the truth of Regina's words, and turned on by the visuals provided by them._

_Visuals that she'd been a part of just a few short hours prior._

_"Too crass, Miss Swan? Don't want to have to deal with the fact that maybe you just might be as filthy as I am?"_

_Emma steels herself because this conversation is very quickly going very bad. Not that she should have expected otherwise, but somehow, this is worse than whatever it was that she had imagined. And it's words. It's all just words._

_No, that's not right._

_It's the look in Regina's eyes. Hollow, defeated and lost. The anger and sudden hatred overwhelm all of that, though. The hatred makes the mayor powerful. The hatred makes her a monster._

_"This has to end," Emma says quietly, desperately. Before she loses her nerve. Before she ends up back in bed, making love to a beautiful monster while her soul continues to crack beneath the weight of their mutual self-loathing._

_"And so it has. You may leave."_

_Emma feels a shot of red-hot rage rush through her at the almost effortless dismissal. "What do you want from me?" the blonde snaps out. "Do you want me to pretend I don't know?"_

_"What a silly question. There's nothing else I want from you. I got what I needed. I took what I needed. Just as you did, dear," Regina answers with a lazy smirk. Her eyes tell a different story, though, and it's the vivid pain that Emma sees lurking there that almost makes her change her mind about walking away from the mayor._

_But then she remembers Kathryn and a shovel. She remembers Mary Margaret and metal cell bars. She remembers a heart in a box._

_So she goes back to her safe place. Law and order and the desire to be a good person. One who isn’t selfish. Who has morals. "I can't prove it now," she tells Regina, "But I will prove what you did to her. Eventually. You know I will."_

_"Good luck with that, Sheriff," Regina replies, her voice cold and hard. Her eyes have locked down now as well, displaying no emotion at all. "Now I believe you know how to leave my house. Try not to wake my son up as you stumble out."_

_Emma stands up from the chair. She finishes pulling on her clothes and her boots, and then casts one look back at the angry hurt woman sitting on the bed. "You are beautiful," she says. She doesn't wait for a response, is not even sure she wants to hear one. Without another glance behind her, she climbs out the window, slipping out onto the roof._

_She never hears Regina whisper to herself._

 _Never hears her say in a shaking voice that would have shattered her completely, "Only on the outside, dear."_

*** ***

Regina's not terribly hard to find thanks to the energy crackling in the air, but by the time she does locate the former mayor in her old office at City Hall, Emma’s starting to think that maybe she might need to call in the Fire Department. Or Hazmat. Really, anything that might ensure the building doesn't collapse beneath the incredible surges of energy tearing out of the dark haired woman as she sits sloppily upon the marbled floor of her old office. She'd look Zen if she didn't look so out of it.

Regina smiles up at Emma, appearing almost drunk, when the blonde enters. "I have no job," she laughs.

"I know," Emma answers, walking slowly towards her. The sparks jumping off not just Regina’s fingers but also her entire body are more than a little concerning. Still, Emma moves to her, hands out to show the brunette that she's no danger to her.

"I’m not the Queen or the Mayor anymore.” She laughs bitterly. “Which means I have no purpose and I have no son."

"That's not true; you still have Henry."

"No, Miss Swan: you have Henry. I have the pats on the head he gives me when I remember to not piddle in the house." The self-loathing rolls like acidic smoke off of her, and suddenly a filing cabinet is exploding, metal screeching loudly, horribly as it bends inwards. Emma just barely manages to duck a flying door handle.

She focuses her attention back on Regina, taking another step forward, hands still out. "He's just a little boy. He's confused."

"He's the smartest little boy you've ever met," There's an odd amount of pride that bursts through as she says these words.

"Maybe so, but even smart kids make mistakes." She moves a few inches closer. "Even smart kids can be thoughtless jerks. I don't think he had a clue how badly he hurt you tonight. I didn't know and I should have. He certainly didn't."

"It's not about tonight. It's…I just want him to love me like he loves you," the brunette tells her in a pained slur, and Emma finds that she can barely tolerate the words because they're so insanely raw. It's like looking at an exposed nerve and knowing that it won't take much to cause pain beyond belief. 

"He does love you," Emma tries to reassure her.

Regina looks up at her, then lifts her sparking hands. "He told me that it was you and Mary Margaret coming through the portal. He insisted. He asked me to have faith in him. I did. I pulled in all the magic. Do you know what that feels like?"

"No."

"It hurts," Regina growls. "Every part of me feels like it’s on fire. I feel like I’m on fire." She closes her eyes then, and when she speaks, her tone has softened. "And still, he only saw you."

"He's a little boy," Emma says again, and she thinks there are tears in her own eyes now, perhaps even some running down the side of her face. 

"Yes, he is. A brilliant beautiful little boy. Who I've already lost." Regina opens her eyes, "So why bother trying? Why bother fighting to be something I'm not."

"Because it's not about him."

"It's always been about him. The only hope I've ever had was him," the former queen growls out.

"So find new hope."

She laughs coldly. "So love again."

"What?"

"It's so damned easy for those who don't have to feel the things I do to say those words. Have faith. Find love. Start again. Make amends. Don't let hate destroy you.”

"It's not easy. Love is never easy."

"Really? The moment you stepped into this town, you had Henry's love. I've had ten almost eleven years with him and I have to prove myself every moment of every day or else he'll turn his back on me. Like everyone else has always done." She looks up and meets Emma's green eyes. "Like you did."

Emma halts her approach for just the briefest of moments. It's getting more and more dangerous in the office by the second. Regina's emotions are jumping all over the grid, and with them, all control over the energy moving within her. This magic, Emma realizes, is utterly alien to the former mayor, which means that she doesn't have a feel for it, doesn't know how to own it or harness it. Which is probably why it's starting to look a whole lot like Regina's about to bring down the roof on both of them.

Go figure that, Emma thinks. Return from several weeks of hell in Fairytale Land only to get squished by City Hall on the first night back. Fucking awesome.

"I thought you'd killed Kathryn," Emma says by way of explanation, once again sliding herself forward.

Regina laughs, the sound terribly sad. Her face has taken on an odd flush, and there's sweat mingling with her tears. The magic inside of her is clearly having a detrimental effect on her body. "I thought I had, too," she answers. That she'd thought Gold had been the killer is irrelevant; the decision to kill a woman who had offered her nothing but friendship had been hers.

"I couldn't be with you like that," Emma tells her. "You would have destroyed me."

"I might have," the brunette admits. "Or maybe…maybe you could have saved me, Emma. Like you save everyone else."

"No one could have saved you back then. Whatever else that casting the curse had done to you, it’d made you unable to see the good in anything. You let your hatred consume you. All the touching and holding in the world wouldn't have changed that."

"No, I suppose not."

"But I can save you now," Emma tells her, stepping towards her again. She ducks debris that suddenly rushes towards her, the metal edge intent on removing her head from her neck. She might be outraged by it were it not for the fact that Regina clearly can't control what the power leaking out of her is doing.

"Why? Why bother? You don't owe me anything more. You've saved me a handful of times. From an angry mob of morons and from that damned wraith. But that was just you being heroic right? Doing as Henry asked?" There’s a needy quality to her tone, an almost desperate and frantic touch to it.

"You're right; I don't owe you, but that's not what this has ever been about. You want the truth? Fine. I saved you back then because I didn't want you to die, Regina. Because even though you piss me off and sometimes I hate you and blame you, I…"

She stops, still can't manage to get the words out, the words that might give away too much. She's been protecting herself for so very long now that it’s hard not to do so right now as well.

"It's all right, dear," Regina tells her, the sadness audibly weighing her down. "Don't say anything you don't mean."

"All right, then I'll say something I do mean." Finally, having reached her, Emma kneels down next to Regina, sitting right in front of the fallen queen, her legs crossed beneath her. "I was right about what I said before; you are beautiful."

In many ways, it's the exact same thing as "I love you". In many ways, it means so very much more than that.

It takes Regina a moment to absorb the words, and then a few more before she’s able to weakly answer with, "You have a funny idea of beauty, Miss Swan. I tried to kill you."

"Poorly," Emma states. "Next time, maybe try a less passive aggressive option. Not that I want to give you of all people ideas, but perhaps something like a car?"

"You're telling jokes now?"

"This whole situation is pretty stressful," Emma admits with a smile. "I almost just got raped by that stapler over there. Not sure how I would have explained the birds and bees of that one to Henry. Or to the doctor for that matter."

Quite in spite of herself, and very much in spite of the nearly devastating physical and mental pain that is wracking her body and soul, Regina laughs, and for half a moment, the energy field around her seems to weaken and lose some of its fury.

"I'm tired," Regina says once the laughter dies away. Her eyes slide shut, but the forcefulness of her raspy breathing shows that she's still awake. She sags a bit, her shoulders drooping.

"I know. And I'm going to get you home and into bed, but before I can do that, we need to turn the lights out.”

“And how do you propose to do that?”

"I, uh…I'm going to try something, okay?"

The brunette's eyes open. "What?"

"Just…trust me, okay?"

"I don't trust," Regina answers. "It always burns me."

"What else do you have to lose?" Emma presses. "Look around us. If we don't turn off this energy surge – if we don’t turn you off - this building is going to come down on both of us."

Regina's eyes snap up, and for the first time, she sees the truth of Emma's words. The building is starting to crumble beneath the weight and force of the energy that she's leaking. It's not yet completely structurally unsound, but it's getting there quickly.

"You need to get out of here," Regina breathes. "Now."

"Not without you."

"I'm not asking."

"And I'm not listening," Emma replies with a shrug of her shoulders. "Not really one of my strong suites, you know?"

"All too well. But Henry…"

"Is fine. Don't use him in this." When Regina simply answers this with a pursing of her lips, Emma nods, satisfied. "Now that we've agreed on that, shut up for a minute, okay? I need to see if my Super Savior Power will do something here."

"Super Savior Power?"

"I'll tell you all about it later. It’s a good story, actually.”

“Emma,” Regina prompts, holding up her shuddering hands, which are now completely surrounded by bright green.

“Right. Okay. Here we go.” Emma reaches forward, then, both of her shaking hands held out in front of her. Slowly, she puts her palms over each of Regina's blazing green fists. She feels a surge of intense heat, and then suddenly all the magic from the well is flowing towards her like water rushing from a dam. Only, as it does, it smacks against her like it’s hitting some kind of crazy force field. It sparks up like a firecracker for a moment, and then completely crumbles, losing all of its power and energy.

Moments later, it's all over.

Apparently, turning off the anger and fear within Regina turned off the crazy which somewhat controlled the magic enough to allow the Super Savior Power to well, do its thing. Anyway, that's the somewhat oddball story that Emma plans to tell anyone who asks. Beyond that, she's just damned glad that she and the former mayor aren't currently buried beneath fifty feet of steel, cement and glass. 

That would have been a terrible end to the day.

"You did it," Regina whispers as she watches the sparks dissipate, remembering another time not too long ago when she'd said the same words – right after Emma had woken Henry up from his sleeping curse coma with a kiss. That moment – that wonderful horrible moment – had begun her downfall.

She wonders what this equally magical moment will bring to her.

"Yeah. I got some crazy mojo in me," Emma quips. Then, standing up and dusting herself off. "Okay, Your Majesty, I think it's time to get you checked out."

"Checked out?"

"You mainlined like a gazillion magical volts and then you had a complete mental meltdown and went a little bit Jean Grey circa Dark Phoenix era."

"Jean Grey? Dark Phoenix? What the hell are you on about?"

"Comic books. Henry has hundreds of them. Are you seriously going to tell me that you’ve never read any them?"

"No," Regina says sadly. "I never…I didn't think that was what I was supposed to be doing. I thought…" she stops and shakes her head. “I suppose it doesn’t matter, does it?”

"Of course it matters, Regina. And that will be priority one during your recovery…"

"My recovery?"

"Yeah. Recovery as in rest and relaxation. Which is what you're going to do after I get you checked out by a doctor. Now as I was saying, priority one is to catch you up to the classic X-Men era. Me and Henry can get you up to speed in no time."

"Really?" There's some dread in her tone, but it's somewhat intrigued, somewhat humoring. She'd spent so much time trying to figure out what a parent was supposed to do, how they were supposed to act that it’d never occurred to her to try to share interests with Henry. Or to try to step into his world a little.

How silly. How naïve.

"Really. Come on, give me your hand."

Wincing a bit, Regina extends her hand towards Emma. The blonde does her one better, though. The moment Regina is up on her feet, Emma slips an arm around her waist and pulls her as close as possible. It's a bit of a hold, and for a moment, Emma thinks the brunette will resist it as she does almost every other kind of hold (Regina allows for hugs but usually only her terms or from Henry). Much to Emma’s surprise, though, Regina doesn't move away or resist. Instead, for once, she allows the contact and the comfort. For once, she actually permits Emma to see the weakness within her even as she desperately fights for strength and dignity.

"I think I freaked Dr. Hopper out," Regina jokes as Emma moves them towards the crumbled in door. Yeah, Emma muses, this place is going to need a lot of TLC.

"Just a little," Emma agrees. "But he's the one who sent me after you. You know, he said a weird thing. He said he didn't know what had happened between us. I think he was lying."

"I didn't say a word."

"I don't think you had to," Emma says with a slight smile. "But just so you know: you've always had him in your corner."

"Silly bug."

"I think he'd prefer you not call him that."

"Mm. You're probably right. Are those sirens I hear?"

"That they are. You almost blow up City Hall; someone was bound to notice.”

Regina sighs. "So much for convincing people I'm not evil."

"Don't worry," Emma assures her. "I'll make them understand."

*** ***

Turns out that getting them – and them being her parents and many of the other generally grumbling townsfolk – to understand that Regina hadn't tried to destroy City Hall on purpose had been more difficult than she'd expected.

At least up until a very sleepy Henry had shown up so as to confirm the information about Regina sucking in all of the green magic. Suddenly, everyone was asking why that hadn't been noticed back at the wishing well. Why had no one taken a moment to wonder about how Regina had saved them?

"You doing okay?" Archie asks as he approaches the former queen. She's sitting on the back of an ambulance, a blanket around her, and an oxygen mask affixed to her mouth. It's the most she'll allow without being forcibly restrained.

"I am," she answers softly, pulling the mask away and discarding it. Her voice is rough from the smoke and debris that had been filling her old office. A cut above her eye has been sealed with stitches, but is still puffy and red around the edges.

"I heard the paramedic telling Emma that they're about to clear you to go home."

"Good; this day needs to end."

"It's been a long one,” Archie agrees with a chuckle and a nod. “If you'd like to talk in the morning, I'll be there," he tells her.

She looks up at him then. "Why are you being so kind to me? To a degree I understand why Emma is. She and I…we have things between us. Henry and…feelings. But us…"

"We have history."

"No, we don't."

"Not actual history, no, but we share…" he stops and thinks. The last thing he wants to do is insult her by understating the nightmare that has been her life. "I don't know how much you know about my story or…or how I became a cricket."

"Not much."

"My parents wanted me to be a conman and a thief. I wanted to be free." He meets her eyes when he says this. "I wanted time to stand on a hill and listen to the crickets and nature and I wanted to smell the air. I just wanted to know who I really was. They wanted me to be…them. Now, I'm who I am."

"And who is that? Jiminy Cricket?"

"No, I'm Archie." He says this with a shrug, as if to suggest that he knows what he's saying is cheesy, but he doesn't much care about any of that at this moment in time. It's absurd enough that he's having (and has had) a deep conversation with the Evil Queen, he figures. "And maybe," he adds, "Even the curse that you cast on all of us was a terrible, horrible and vengeful thing, maybe it helped me. Maybe I’m a better man because of it.”

She thinks about his words – and unintended consequences - for a moment, and then nods. "I'll call you in the morning, Doctor."

"Glad to hear it. Goodnight, Regina." He offers her one more slight smile, and then turns and walks away. She stares after him for a moment, thoughtful about his words.

Thoughtful about the amazing strength that sometimes lurks within the smallest and meekest of creatures. Strength that she's always been good at pretending to have, but rarely possessed. Strength that she is envious of.

"Ready to go home?" Emma says suddenly, cutting into her thoughts. When she comes over, Regina notices for the first time that there's a long gouge down the sleeve of the blonde's blue leather jacket. A hint of blood shines through.

"You couldn't have worn the red one?" Regina queries, lifting up an eyebrow and allowing for a sweeping assessment of the sheriff's clothing.

"What?" Emma queries. She looks down at her jacket, gets the joke, and then laughs dryly. "Oh, right. Yeah, funny. A little 100% oxygen and suddenly everyone is a joker."

"Mm. Are your parents going to allow you to take me home?"

"Don't really need permission; I am a big girl.

"Yes, you are," Regina says with a grin.

"Yeah, definitely too much oxygen. Come on. Up."

"Wait…is Henry…is he still here?”

"Yeah, he's over there. He refused to leave until he saw you."

"Really?"

"He's eleven and he's self-absorbed and he's thoughtless, but under all of that, he does love you. And he does believe in you. He just doesn't know how to show it."

"He knows how to show you what he feels," the brunette counters. 

"Yeah, but that's because I'm the cool mom who lets him eat fries for breakfast and pancakes for dinner. You're the mom who ensured he knew how to read and write. He is who he is because of you. One day, he'll realize that. Have faith in him like he has in you.”

"I do. You're alive because of that faith."

"Well that, I appreciate. Now go on, go say goodnight to him. I'll be over there trying to convince my parents to let me take you home." She wriggles her eyebrows suggestively at this, but really, she's just playing around. It's weird how nice it feels to just goof around. Like there's not a trouble in the world. Like just a few hours ago the world hadn't been caving inwards on the both of them – Emma in the old land and Regina in Storybrooke.

Regina takes a deep breath, holds it, finally exhales and then moves towards Henry, a smile spreading across her face as she nears her son.

*** ***

She should be sleeping.

 _This_ is better.

This, of course, shouldn't be happening at all. 

The purpose of allowing Emma to help her into her room hadn't been to push for something more. No, her intent had for once been completely innocent and pure. She'd simply needed assistance getting to her bed due to her completely jellied legs being suddenly unwilling to support her weight.

That Emma had ended up accidentally falling upon her when trying to lie her down, well that'd either been a fortunate accident or Emma copping a feel. Either way, it's resulted in the two of them lying together on the bed, Emma atop her slightly, weight shifted away so as not to rest upon weary muscles.

"I don't think your parents would approve of this," Regina gasps out between kisses. She feels fingers dancing against her abdomen, counting out a gentle rhythm.

"Don't talk about my parents," the blonde admonishes. "It's creepy, and takes me out of the mood." She says this as she's unbuttoning the blue blouse that Regina is wearing. After a moment of happy inspection (as well as a light kiss to the left cup of the black lacy bra that the brunette has on), she then gracelessly removes her own hoodie. She's bare beneath it, her breasts proudly exposed.

"No bra, dear? Were you expecting something?"

Emma laughs at this. "No. It was past midnight and I figured by the time I found a clean one to throw on, you might have managed to blow up the whole town by then."

Regina shrugs, and doesn’t bother to deny it. She also can't think when a moment later Emma is removing her bra (unlike Emma, she never goes out without one on), and then following that up by sealing her warm wet mouth over the hardened nipple of her left breast. A hand reaches out to gently palm the right one. She groans loudly at the dual contact and then feels – rather than hears – Emma chuckle out her satisfaction.

She closes her eyes, and lifts a hand up and slides it through messy blonde waves. Her hold is gentle, completely unlike her normally possessive self. If Emma notices the difference in the touch (it's been a few months since the last time they did this so maybe she doesn't), she doesn't say.

Emma doesn't say much of anything.

She doesn't need to.

*** ***

She's being watched again.

Were it not for last time, this probably wouldn't bother the former queen as much, but the last time does exist. She does remember Emma calling her a murderer and then ending their relationship. That Emma had been right – though by a strange turn of events not about her killing Kathryn, but rather about her true nature – is largely irrelevant now.

Abandonment still hurts no matter the atrocities committed.

She considers not turning to face the blonde, so terrified is she of hearing what might be said. She'd much rather stay settled as she is now, content and warm within the blankets of her bed. 

"You're tense," she hears from her side. A hand reaches out to rub at the muscles of her back.

"And you're watching me again," Regina replies. At least this time, she thinks, the blonde is doing her spectating from beside her in the bed instead of in a chair.

"I am."

Reluctantly, Regina turns to face her. "I know my sins, dear. I know who I am, and I know what I deserve and don't deserve."

"Hey, relax; I'm not leaving, okay?" Emma cuts in, knowing exactly where this train is about to go. "So stop. I just…I wanted to watch you sleep. I was hoping it'd be peaceful."

"It never is."

"Well, we can try the exhaustion route," Emma offers with a impish smile, sliding her body forward as she says this. One hand reaches out to move beneath the sheet.

"If only that ever worked,” Regina answers with a throaty chuckle. “I don't think I'd ever let you out of bed if it did."

"Damn." Emma shrugs her shoulders. "Well then, I guess we could try something you've never let me try before."

Regina's eyebrow lifts. "Dare I ask what you have in mind, Sheriff?”

"Let me hold you."

Emma feels the sudden tension in the bed. And for a moment, she's dead certain that the former queen will refuse this request as she has always refused every other one like it. But then, softly, almost shyly. "Okay."

Emma doesn't hesitate; she slips forward in the bed, an arm immediately sliding around Regina's lithe frame. She pretends not to notice the slight tremor that she feels. She pretends not to know that the former queen is terrified right now.

This is true intimacy. There's nothing being gained and gamed here, only comfort, support and love being given and allowed.

Emma pulls Regina tight against her body, and closes her eyes. "You are beautiful," she whispers into the former queen’s ear.

She pretends not to see the tear that makes its way down Regina's face. 

She just holds on tighter.

-Fin


End file.
